


Jack

by leonheart2012



Series: Survivors [1]
Category: Preservation (Movie)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-01 23:39:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6541465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonheart2012/pseuds/leonheart2012
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Jack had survived? How would he get away with it? How was he going to explain away the hours unaccounted for? How was he going to escape punishment from the law?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jack

Jack was quite sure he could win this. He was feeling quite triumphant, in fact. Then, he saw her hand reaching out for something. He wasn't ready to take any chances - she'd killed two of his friends already. He caught her arm and held it down, watching the life fade from her face.

He felt the usual rush, but tenfold. He'd taken down the mother bear where his friends had failed. He stood over her body and wondered how he was going to get out of this mess.

He'd need to destroy his friends' phones, move the lady's body, wipe his own phone, and come up with a plausible story for where he'd been.

He looked at what she'd been reaching for; a broken beer bottle. _Had she got this, would she have killed me?_ The thought made him shiver. He was sure she would have. She hadn't hesitated with his friends.

Right - first thing's first - moving the body. His eyes lingered on the beer bottle for a few more moments before he stomped on it, smashing it to pieces. He felt a rush of relief - now that it was shattered, it posed no threat to him.

He tied the lady's feet together like he'd done before. He rode his bike to the bin where the other bodies were.

_Wait...if she's dead, and so are they, who killed them?_

_Say you don't know. You weren't hanging out with these guys. You were hanging out with your other friends - your girlfriend._

Jack smiled at that - his girlfriend was a kick-ass chick. Hot as hell, mean and fiery. And she loved him. Worshipped him, even. He worshipped her, too. Not that he'd tell her that. She'd use it against him in a heartbeat. He loved that.

He stopped at the bin and dumped her body in it. _Guns. Have to get rid of fingerprints on the guns. And knives. Have to think of everything._

Jack was under no illusions - he knew he wasn't the smartest cookie in the jar, but he knew he was among the top few. Even so, he'd seen smart killers, smarter than him, get caught for stupid mistakes. He wasn't going to be one of those.

He found Ben's body and hauled it next to the bin. He did the same for Will's. He went through their pockets and found their phones. He smashed them after wiping the memories. _Being careful. Careful is good._ Despite knowing the risks, he allowed himself to feel a little cocky. He was truly sad that Ben and Will had died, especially Ben, but he'd triumphed over the woman where they had failed. Jack looked down at Ben, and felt a rush of remorse. Ben was like a brother to him. He shouldn't be feeling anything other than sadness right now. He bent down and kissed his forehead.

"I'm sorry, Ben. You deserved better. I should have told you I loved you more. I should have treated you better." He shook his head sadly. He had to get home.

He wiped his own phone of the text conversations with Ben and Will, and even some with Annalise. He wiped the videos from his phone, mourning their loss. Annalise kept backups, but these had been good kills. He wished he could keep some evidence of them. He knew, though that having keepsakes was a bad idea. He really felt torn about the whole thing. With one final look at Ben, he started to ride home. 

_The bird._ Jack suddenly remembered the bird in the shopping bag at the station where he worked. He couldn't have anyone finding that. He rode his bike to the station and took it down.

He was surprised to find that it was still alive.It must have survived on the rain water coming from the roof. He was tempted to break its neck - he'd had a really bad day, and the rush might make him feel better. He decided against it. He untied the bird's feet and let it fly.

He hurried home - his mother would be expecting him. He smiled as he remembered the phone call. He really did love her. She took good care of him. Well, as best she could. It was his father he really hated. _Drunk bastard._ He thought sourly. He remembered all the days the guy would come home drunk and beat him bloody. That was who he imagined killing every time. _Not every time. Sometimes it's that bully Michael._

Jack pulled a sour face. He hated Michael as much as his favourite victim - Ben. Jack knew that Ben imagined killing Michael any time he was out with the other two. He didn't blame him - he'd made his life hell for years. Ever since they'd moved into high school in grade seven, it'd gotten worse. That was when they'd started this. Jack acted like he'd have done it anyway, but he'd done it for Ben. Will had tagged along for the fun of it. Jack shivered at how heartless he could be at times. Even when they were young - well, younger.

Jack would be turning sixteen in July, and Ben would have been turning fourteen, poor guy, in December. Will's birthday was in May - he'd just turned sixteen, the same age as Jack.

  


Jack turned into his driveway. His father's car was there. Jack felt himself bristle just at the thought of him. he put his bike in the garage and changed into his normal clothes - jeans and a t-shirt.

He opened the garage door, and was thrown down the steps. "Don't come up until you've learned some manners, boy." His father growled. Jack's blood boiled, but he sat obediently at the foot of the stairs. He waited ten minutes, counting them on his phone, before knocking politely on the front door.

It opened, and he looked at his father. He was a small man, with a stumpy torso and legs like tree trunks. Jack was glad he'd gotten his mother's features. She was long and graceful - had been. His father's eyes were too close together. He wasn't unpleasant to look at, but he was unpleasant to be around. "Sorry I'm late."

The actions of his father let him know that his mother was upstairs. He never hit Jack if his mother was around.

"You made mom worry." Jack stiffened at the word 'mom'. He hated it when he acted as though he had such closeness to her. "She went to lie down. Go and tell her you're back." His father didn't sound at all happy that he was home.

"Yes, father." He held himself rigid as he ascended the stairs - he knew his father wasn't against grabbing his ankle and dragging him down the stairs. He knocked lightly on his parents' door.

"Come in." Jack's mother's sweet voice calmed him. He opened the door slowly, edging around it, trying not to let too much light in.

"Hey, mom. Sorry I'm late." He sat on the edge of her bed and took her hand. "I was spending time with Elizabeth and Annalise."

"I'm just glad you're home safe." She sighed. She looked better than yesterday, but still awful. She had heavy bags under her eyes and a red blush high on her cheeks. Her skin looked sallow and greasy. "Can you make dinner for me, sweetheart? I'm tired."

"Sure thing, mom." He kissed her cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetie."

Jack made dinner, serving it to his father before his mother. That was the hierarchy in the house, and the way it was going to stay. His father grunted at the plate of food before digging in. Jack had to hold himself back from spitting in his food. Jack took his and his mother's plates up to her room. His mother loved it when he ate with her, especially since she became so sick.As he gave her her bowl, she noticed his split lip from the fall down the garage stairs.

"What happened to your lip?"

"Just fell down the stairs. Nothing to worry about. Eat something." He looked at the meal he'd made - rice and chicken with sweet chilli sauce. It was easy enough to swallow, because he'd cut the chicken so small, but he knew how bad her throat could get. He was only ten years old when she got sick like this. "I can make soup if you want."

"No, it's alright." He pulled up the chair next to his mother's bed.

"Do you need me to help?" A few weeks ago, his mother had been so sick, he had to hand-feed her. It had broken his heart. She couldn't manage anything more than two spoonfuls at a time, and nothing chunkier than onion soup.

"No, I'm alright, sweetheart. How was your day?" She looked at him expectantly, but he knew she was trying to get out of eating. He eyed her bowl pointedly. She sighed and took a spoonful.

"It was alright. I went to school, learnt a few things." He brought out his school books to show her. "In English, we were doing Shakespeare. I have to recite a passage from Orthello." He handed her the book with the passage highlighted. He had a sticky note there so he could find it easily. Once she'd read it, he started on the next topic.

"Then, in Mathematics, we did the laws of exponents."

"Oh, don't get started on your Mathematics. You know I don't understand any of that." Jack smiled and put those books away.

"Next was Art. We did painting." He scrunched up his nose. He preferred sketching much more. _I should sketch mom. She looks good._ He gave his mother the art book and inhaled his food, setting the empty bowl aside. He took it back from her when she'd finished looking and picked up his pencils. "Hold still for me."

He quickly got the lines of her face, then fleshed them out. Her cheeks still looked too hollow, her eyes still too big in her round face. Her lips looked thinner every day. His mother caught his sad expression and brought her hand to his cheek.

"I'm okay."

"I wish he'd just take you to the doctor." He almost had enough to do that himself. He vowed that he would. He could see her getting exhausted. He took her bowl and sighed - she'd set it aside half-full. "You should get some rest."

"Read to me." She didn't demand it, like his father would have. She asked it of him. He sat back down, pulled out his book - Wuthering Heights - and started to read.

As the words flowed from his mouth, he let his mind wander. He thought back to those people who had brought his world crashing down around him, writhing in flames. He thought about his mother and how sick she looked. He thought about Ben, about how he would never laugh or cry again, or have his first kiss, or children or...he felt his cheeks wet with tears. He looked up and saw his mother asleep. He kissed her forehead, closed his book and packed up his bag. He texted Annalise.

**Come over. Upset.** He didn't elaborate - she'd know what he meant.

He waited by the front door, not wanting his father to know that she was here. Annalise showed up just minutes later. Jack took her outside, going for a walk around the block.

He took a minute to appreciate her beauty. She had sharp, intelligent brown eyes, soft brown hair and skin like milk. She had long legs that brought her up to Jack's height. She held herself proud and tall. She knew she was sexy, and she wasn't afraid to show it.

"Ben and Will are dead." He said shortly, not really wanting to dwell on it for too long.

"How?"

"We were out in the reserve, killing people. Three of them. Two men, a woman. Came by the gas station. Woman was pregnant. Was going well, had killed the guys. The lady killed them. One of the guys stabbed Ben in the leg."

"Did you wipe everything?" She asked after a respectful silence.

"Yeah. Got the lady. Put her in the bin with the others. Got Ben and Will and put them both next to it." There were two reasons he was speaking shortly like this. The first was so that if anyone was listening in, they wouldn't know what they were talking about. The other was so that he didn't get too upset and start bawling his eyes out. She nodded slowly. "I got their phones, wiped then smashed them. I wiped mine of anything related. I left no trace. I told mom I was with you and Elizabeth. Can you tell her?"

"Okay." Jack wasn't surprised by the lack of sympathy. It was her empathy that he loved. She could understand where anyone was coming from. He also liked that she wasn't trying to coax any information out of him, or trying to comfort him. He could really use a hug right about then, but he'd ask for one when he was ready. They'd previously tried going through the 'caring girlfriend' phase, but Jack had rejected that movement completely. A similar outcome resulted when they tried the 'caring boyfriend' act.

They kept walking for a while before Jack slipped his hand into hers. "Mom looked terrible. Better, but still terrible." Annalise nodded again. "She only ate half a bowl of rice and chicken, and it wasn't a big bowl to begin with."

She cast him a worried look. She knew he was avoiding saying what was really bothering him. He stopped and pulled her into a hug. "He deserved better. I should have been there for him."

She wrapped her arms around him briefly before pulling away. Jack let her. "He was a good kid. Almost fourteen, right?"

"Yeah."

Jack remembered the first time he'd told Ben he loved him. He'd been turning thirteen that day. Ben had been around for a sleep over. They'd just had dinner and were brushing their teeth. Jack's father had just started beating him. Jack watched Ben for a few minutes.

"Hey, Ben." Ben had turned to look at him. Jack had smiled - he looked so cute. "Come here for a second." Ben had stepped forward sheepishly. Jack had put his hands on his shoulders. "I love you. As a friend. You know that, right?"

Ben had smiled with all the brightness of the sun. "Yeah. I love you too." Jack had pulled him into a hug, then. He'd repeated the words over and over again. _I love you. I love you. I love you._

He'd sworn, years ago, to protect Ben, and now he'd failed. He felt anguished at the notion. He felt his throat closing over, and knew he had to get home. "I, uh...I should get back..." They walked back together. They stopped outside Jack's house, and he kissed her goodnight. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah." She smiled, turned and walked away.

_I love you,_ he thought with a sigh. He went inside, thankful that his father had gone upstairs already.

He crept up the stairs and sank into his mattress gratefully. He pulled a pillow to his chest and hugged it fiercely. He cried himself to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! First chapter! Let me know what you think! Feedback is greatly appreciated!


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